


Snapshot

by clairvoyance



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fire Nation Royal Family, Romance, Ursai, Urzai
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-23
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2017-11-15 00:06:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 7,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clairvoyance/pseuds/clairvoyance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moments in the lives of Ursa and Ozai. 30-day drabble writing challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beginning

_Beginning_

His gaze is cold, his mouth set in a hard line. He is not happy to be here.

Ursa straightens, meets his gaze squarely. Matches his expression. Mirrors his stance. She tilts her chin up, defiant.

His expression changes very slightly, eyebrows arching. Still, she refuses to smile, refuses to bow.

"Ursa!" Her mother has rushed over in a flurry of silk robes. "Where are your manners? I apologize, Prince Ozai," she says, bowing deeply. "My daughter is - "

"No," he interrupts, very quietly. "No, there is no need to apologize. Please, Lady Hong - could you excuse us for a moment?"

His gaze has still not left Ursa's face. Ursa is surprised, as is her mother, who has fallen into stunned silence. "Of - of course," Lady Hong murmurs before hastily backing away into the crowd.

Ursa stares at the prince for a split second longer before he surprises her again. He bows, the light glinting off of his crown. "Lady Ursa," he says quietly.

Suddenly embarrassed, Ursa mimics him and bows as well. "Prince Ozai." Inside, she is reeling - the royal family never bows to anyone first. Never.

When they have straightened, her gaze returns to his face once more. And though his expression is still stiff and unsmiling, this time she sees something different: the ice in his gaze has melted just a tiny bit.


	2. Accusation

_Accusation_

"Hello, Lady Ursa."

"Prince Ozai." She is surprised - and more flattered than she'd like to admit - that he remembers her.

"How have you been doing?" he asks.

She can't tell if he's genuinely interested or simply being polite. Most likely the latter. "I've been doing fine, thank you. And you?"

"Fine." He takes a sip of wine, surveying the crowd. She studies his face. He looks bored, irritable even. She remembers the last time they met, remembers the same stiff, unfriendly look on his face. Clearly he doesn't enjoy these social gatherings.

"Why do you attend these?" Ursa asks. It slips out before she can stop it.

He looks down at her with a faint air of surprise. "What?"

She wants to take back her question, wonders if it's too personal, but it's too late now. "These… gatherings. You don't seem to enjoy them."

"I'm enjoying myself," he insists, and as if to prove his point he takes another sip of wine.

She smiles a little. "No, you're not."

"A rather bold accusation, don't you think?" he asks coolly, raising an eyebrow.

She shrugs. "I don't enjoy these either. I only attend because I must. But you're the prince - "

"I'm the prince," he repeats, interrupting her. "My presence is expected."

She squints at him, doubtful. "Fire Lord Azulon and Prince Iroh are not here."

He hesitates, then takes another sip of wine, turning his gaze back over to the crowd. "There is one other reason I attended." His face remains unreadable, but she senses a shift in his demeanor, a change in his tone.

"And that is?"

He glances at her briefly before looking away. "I wanted to see you again."


	3. Restless

Ursa sighs, wrapping her shawl more tightly around herself. She lets out a huff, watching her breath form a silver cloud in the air before her.

Kicking off her shoes, she shivers as the chill wind nips at her ankles. With a quick glance around her to double-check that there’s no one around, she picks up her shoes and lobs them over the palace wall, listening for their thump into the grass on the other side.

She runs a hand over the ornate carvings in the wall, tracing the deep grooves; then, placing her hands in the grooves, she hooks her foot into a deep crack in the wall and hoists herself up.

Scaling the palace wall was something she had done often as a child, a pastime she had kept secret from her mother. Ursa hasn’t climbed the walls in years, but as she feels the cold stone under her feet and hands, she falls into a rhythm. The climb is not quite as easy as she remembers, though, and by the time she reaches the top of the wall she’s feeling too warm in her dress. She pulls up her skirt and lets the cool air run over her legs, taking a moment to appreciate the breeze.

Then she begins the descent down the other side of the wall. This part is easier, and Ursa moves more quickly. She’s almost reached the bottom when a voice cuts through the still air.

“What are you doing?”

Ursa lets out a shriek of surprise, her foot slipping. She scrambles to find a foothold, but she loses her grip and tumbles into the grass, landing painfully on her rear.

Scrambling to her feet, she blinks rapidly and makes out a shadowy figure in the dark. “Who are you?” she asks shakily, her breath coming in rapid bursts. Instinctively she raises her arms to protect herself.

“I could ask you the same question,” the figure says. He takes a few steps forward, and in that moment she recognizes his voice.

“Prince - Ozai?” she asks cautiously, the nerves still coursing through her veins. But why would the prince - ?

“Indeed. And you - ?” He suddenly stops mid-sentence. 

She feels a flush creep over her cheeks and ducks her head even though she knows he can’t see her face in the dark. Suddenly she remembers that she’s barefoot and wonders where her shoes landed. Wonders if Ozai saw them flying over the palace wall. Wonders if he saw her pull her skirt up past her knees. The flush deepens.

Ozai changes his question. “What are you doing here?” It’s not accusatory, only curious. Ursa wonders if he’s somehow recognized her.

She takes a moment to find her voice. Why is the prince awake at this time? “I couldn’t sleep. I like the royal gardens.” She hesitates. “Why are you here?”

“These are my gardens,” he says, and in the dark she can picture him raising an eyebrow. “I have more right to be here than you do.”

“I mean - ” Ursa fumbles with her words, still flustered at being caught, ” - why are you awake at this time?”

“I couldn’t sleep either.” He pauses. “I spend many of my nights in the gardens.”

“Oh.” Ursa digs her toes into the grass. “I - I, well, I suppose I should go now - ” She glances at the ground, but in the dark she can barely make out a thing.

“Your shoes.” Ozai nods at the ground.

“Right.” Ursa hurriedly picks them up and slips them on, then hesitates. She doesn’t know if he is going to show her out through the gates or if he is expecting her to climb back out.

“Did you climb that wall by yourself?” he asks, sounding intrigued.

“Of course I did,” Ursa says, slightly indignant. “You don’t see anyone here with me, do you?” She turns to face the wall again, feeling slightly foolish as she searches for handholds. 

“Wait, Lady Ursa,” he says.

“Yes?” She’s startled when he says her name.

“You… you don’t have to go.”

“What?”

He clears his throat. “I mean, you don’t have to go right now if you don’t want to.”

She turns slowly to face him again, not sure if he is being serious. But he doesn’t seem the type to tease.

“It - ” He clears his throat again. “It would be a shame if you went through all that trouble to climb over and not even be able to enjoy the gardens.”

Ursa bites her lip, suddenly smiling shyly. “… It would, wouldn’t it?”  She takes a step towards him, hesitates. “Prince Ozai?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”


	4. Snowflake

The wind rattles through the brittle branches of the trees, dry as the dying wheeze of an old man. Ursa stares up at the cold gray sky, wondering what it would be like if it snowed.

_Snow._  She has never seen snow in her entire life. The winters in the Fire Nation are chilly but never brutally cold. Certainly not cold enough for snow. But Ursa has seen paintings of it, like thick white blankets covering the landscape…

Idly she wonders what it would be like to live in the Northern or Southern Water Tribes, where it would always be snowy. She muses over it and decides that in the end, she would prefer the Fire Nation.

But what Ursa finds the most intriguing about snow are the snowflakes. Tiny. Precise. What fascinates her most of all is the fact that each one is unique. Each one perfect in its beauty. She returns to her sketchbook, begins to doodle. 

A shadow falls over her. She looks up. It’s Ozai.

“What are you drawing?” he asks.

“A snowflake.” Ursa studies her drawing for a moment and realizes that she’s probably made it more ornate than any real snowflake actually is.

“Why?” He sits down on the cold, hard ground next to her.

She chews her lip, thinking a moment before answering. “They… they are beautiful. And each one is different. Isn’t that - don’t you think that’s fascinating?”

He doesn’t answer, and when she looks over she sees that he’s closed his eyes.

Ursa feels a little silly. “Well - maybe not - “

“No,” he says quietly, opening his eyes. He gives her a sidelong glance. “No, I completely understand.”


	5. Haze

The next months are a blur for her. Suddenly - and she doesn’t quite realize how - she finds herself looking forward to seeing Ozai. Sometimes it’s at one of his father’s numerous dinner parties for the Fire Nation nobles. Other times - and she can hardly believe that she is permitted to do this - she climbs over the wall and sneaks into the royal gardens.

And on the rare occasion he’ll come to her window at night.

She doesn’t know what spirits have granted her this honor, but she doesn’t question it.

He doesn’t talk much. Mostly it’s her filling the silence between them, talking about this and that and whatever is on her mind. Sometimes she stops, embarrassed that she is talking so much, but he always nudges her on. And sometimes she’ll even forget that it’s the prince she’s talking to, until she turns and looks at him and is reminded by that gold crown glinting in the sun.

He’s rarely around people his age, and when he is, the conversation is always stiffened with formalities. And so he merely likes to sit and listen to her as she talks, free and unrestrained.

It’s a blur. She doesn’t know how she has made a new friend in him. She tries to push away the other thoughts.


	6. Flame

He is a flame, burning brighter and brighter, drawing her closer and closer.

But she doesn’t think of herself as just the moth. Because that would mean only she is drawn to him.

She wants to believe that she is his flame, too.


	7. Formal

They are different when others are around.

He acts as the proper prince. She behaves like a proper lady.

But she’ll look at him, briefly, not too long or else others will suspect - and the corner of his mouth will twitch.

She’s never seen him smile for anyone else, not the way he does for her.


	8. Companion

The news travels quickly, and before the day is over the nation has been draped in black.

Fire Lady Ilah is dead.

He seeks Ursa out. At first no words pass between them.

"I'm sorry," Ursa finally whispers, knowing that it is not enough, not nearly enough.

He lifts one shoulder slightly, drops it. His mouth is pressed into a thin line, just like that first day she met him - was it really almost a year ago?

She doesn't know how close Ozai was to his mother. But she knows that with her gone, there will be no one to serve as a bridge between him and his father.

Ursa sits with him all day. And neither of them say anything more.

 


	9. Move

His firebending terrifies her and thrills her.

He flows with the element, powerful and deadly. She has never seen anyone move like that. It's controlled and yet - wild? Like a force barely tamed.

"That was…" She can't think of anything to describe it properly. He had been a _part_  of the flames, had flowed with them. She's embarrassed to find that she almost sounds breathless.

He smiles, doesn't say anything. He knows what she means.

Later she realizes that it's only when he firebends that she ever sees his control slip, just a little.

Just a little. He lets himself go, just a little. And she thinks it's all the more beautiful for that.


	10. Silver

He doesn't enjoy the night as much as she does - she knows that it's because it's the sun that powers his firebending - but he stays with her anyway.

She is sitting at the edge of of the pond in the royal gardens. The water is a sheet of liquid silver, smooth and unwavering until she finds a pebble and tosses it in. She watches the ripples cascade outwards until they fade, and then the pond is smooth glass again.

The breeze is warm. Ursa closes her eyes, taking a long, slow deep breath - summer is coming again.

Suddenly Ozai gently takes her hand, shocking her out of her reverie. In the time that they have known each other, he has been very careful not to come too near her, not to touch her. But now as his hand - hot against hers - grazes across her skin, she wonders if he has been waiting to do this.

She watches him, wide-eyed. His crown gleams silver in the moonlight as he tilts his head down slightly. His eyes do not leave hers as he slowly brings her hand up to his lips.

"My lady…" he murmurs quietly, and his eyes drop. He traces his lips along the inner curve of her wrist, a sensitive spot. It tickles, and she almost pulls her hand away in surprise.

He lowers her hand and sighs quietly, softly, leaning closer to her. He reaches up, moving slowly, gauging her reaction, then lets his fingers graze her neck and then down to her collarbone. She is barely breathing, her breaths shallow and slow. She's almost afraid to move - as if one false action will shatter the dream.

His head tips forward, his lips meet her jawline. Her heartbeat is loud in her ears. She tries to stay as still as she can, but as he moves lower, down to where the curve of her neck meets her shoulder, down to her collar - she can't help but want to touch him too. Her fingers weave through his hair, and he tenses for a moment before relaxing again.

Her hand finds the pin in his crown, undoes it. His hair falls around his face as the crown clatters to the cobblestone. A glint of silver.


	11. Prepared

In retrospect, she supposes that she should have been prepared for it.

But when it had happened, it had come as a shock - she hadn't really thought that far ahead.

So when her mother had burst into her room, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright with excitement, Ursa hadn't really known what to expect. Lady Hong had been half-laughing, half-crying. Ursa had sat and waited patiently for her mother to calm down enough to speak coherently.

Finally Lady Hong did, and breathlessly, sounding more like a teenage girl than a mother, she began to explain what had happened. "Ursa - a messenger from the palace came to deliver a message a few minutes ago - and he said - he said - "

Ursa's certain that her mother's next words will ring forever in her ears.  _"Prince Ozai has asked for your hand in marriage."_


	12. Knowledge

She knows that there was no need to send a message.

She knows that he could have marched in with a royal order and forced her to marry him.

But he asked anyway. Even if both of them know it doesn't make a difference. All his message does is give them a reason to call it something other than an  _arranged marriage._

She knows that either way she'd have to marry him. Because everyone knows that the prince never asks anyone for anything, especially not a woman for her hand. Everyone knows that the prince marries anyone he wants.

He seems to be fond of doing that. Breaking tradition for her, even if it's only pretend. She supposes that it's his way of showing affection.


	13. Denial

A year after their marriage, she asks him if they can add turtle ducks to the pond in the gardens.

At first he says no, but it doesn't take much for him to give in to her.

So the day the new turtle ducks are brought in, Ursa drags him down to the gardens to go see them. There's a mother and her babies, and they're still wary of humans, but Ursa sits down with Ozai at the end of the pond, watching them.

"They're so cute," Ursa says wistfully.

He grunts.

"I know you think they're cute too," she says, and she leans into him, watching him.

He turns away. "No."

"Look at them. They're so tiny and fluffy," she says.

He shrugs, glances back at the turtle ducks, at the babies following their mother.

"You're in denial," Ursa says to him, and she smiles.


	14. Wind

The wind is biting, chilly, but she doesn't want to go in, not just yet. Her hand rests on the round curve of her stomach as she stares out into the night, enjoying the solitude.

She hears the door open behind her. "Ursa!" she hears Ozai say as her hurries out onto the balcony. The next thing she knows he's draping a warm cloak over her shoulders. "You should have put on something warmer before coming out here."

She tugs the cloak closer around herself. As her pregnancy has drawn on he has become more and more protective of her. "I knew you would come after me," she says quietly, smiling.

He chuckles, but it is brief, still laced with worry. "You have too much faith in me, my dear."


	15. Order

He likes order in his life. Everything precise. Everything controlled.

She, on the other hand, doesn't like to follow structure. She is driven by her impulses.

They make a good balance.

But the two newest additions to their family make Ozai's precious order much more difficult to maintain. Ursa doesn't mind. It's part of having a family.

He acts annoyed when she asks him to help with the children, but she can see that he doesn't really mind. He grumbles about the mess and the noise and the nuisance, the way everything is so _disorderly_  nowadays, but Ursa knows that he is proud of his family.


	16. Thanks

The difference isn't apparent at first. Almost unnoticeable. When Azula masters a skill that her older brother hasn't, no one says anything. It's still the basics. There is still time.

But Zuko, full of pride even at this young age, begs his parents to be an audience for him. "I can do it, too," he insists. He drags them out to the garden to demonstrate.

It starts smoothly at first, and Ursa thinks that maybe he really has mastered it. But then Zuko stumbles, trips - there's an old tree root sticking up out of the ground - and comes tumbling to the ground.

Ursa rushes over to him. Ozai follows, a little more slowly. Zuko's struggling not to cry.

"Pay more attention to your surroundings," Ozai says tersely. Then he sighs. "Keep practicing." With that he turns and strides away towards the palace.

Ursa knows that he can't tolerate failure. Not when it comes to anyone, even himself or his children. She turns to Zuko. "You did a wonderful job."

Zuko stares at the ground, picking at the grass. "Thanks, mom," he says quietly.


	17. Look

The spring air is warm. Ursa closes her eyes, hoping that maybe, maybe this year will be a little different.

Ozai is growing distant, and it scares her more than she'd like to admit. He barely glances at Zuko nowadays, and Ursa knows that he is disappointed in his son. Maybe even ashamed.

Their family is trembling on its foundations, and she wants to save it, to bring them back together - but Azula doesn't seem to care, Zuko is content, and Ozai - Ozai drifts ever further away.

Sometimes at night, when everything is quiet, he will reach for her to bring her close, but most nights he lies there, silent, and she wonders if he is awake or asleep.

The soft quacking of a turtle duck breaks Ursa's reverie. She watches as the turtle duck swims up to the water's edge, right up to Ozai, demanding food.

Ursa glances at him, smiling, but he isn't looking.


	18. Summer

Somehow she persuades him to come with her to Ember Island, to leave the palace behind, to leave his duties behind. The children beg to come along - Zuko more fervently than Azula - but Ursa decides that it would be best if they stayed at home. And secretly she longs for time alone with Ozai, time spent with only thoughts of each other, time with no thoughts of his father or his brother or his inescapable bonds.

He's sitting on the sand now, watching the ocean, silent as ever. She leans towards him, reaches up to gently turn his head to face her. "My lord."

For a moment he does nothing, only watches her through cool gold eyes, and she begins to withdraw, uncertain. But then he takes her by surprise and catches her hand in his, then leans in close. "Ursa," he says quietly. Nothing more.

She waits.

He opens his mouth slightly, like he's about to say something, then seems to change his mind. Instead he drops her hand, opting instead to reach up to lace his fingers into her hair.

He pauses, only briefly - and then he leans down quickly and presses his mouth to hers, scorching, almost animalistic in his ferocity, and she almost pulls back out of surprise but stops herself just in time - and then he is twisting his fingers in her hair, tugging almost painfully but not quite, and she feels herself being pushed backwards onto the sand -

\- and she feels the hot sun beating down upon her, squeezes her eyes shut against the glare as she reaches up to wrap her arms around him, drags her nails along his scalp - and this is what she has been wanting, her husband, Ozai, not the Fire Lord's son, not the brother of the Crown Prince - just  _Ozai_.

And he is hers, for now - for as long as she can hold onto him, before he's wrenched away by politics and status and duty, before Azulon shunts him to the side again in favor of his brother. She only wonders how long it will last.

As his hand finds the tie to her top, she does not know that this will be their last summer together for many years.


	19. Transformation

She wonders who this man is.

He speaks very little to her nowadays, and when he does, he sounds distant and cold, deep within his own thoughts. Beneath the calm she can sense a storm; he is frustrated with his father and brother and son. And she understands that he wants more, wants to be acknowledged, wants to be recognized for who he is. But it doesn't help every time Iroh comes home with yet another military victory tucked under his belt, and Azulon can only praise his eldest son.

"What do you want?" she asks Ozai one day, not really sure where the question came from or what exactly she means by it. It isn't hostile, only curious.

He gives her a long look, and she wonders if he will even answer her. But the answer that he eventually gives comes as no surprise to her. "I don't know."

He is wandering, she knows, and she wants to bring him back to the path. He has retreated into brooding, sullen thoughts, battling his demons, not knowing what he wants or who he wants it from, just knowing that he _wants._

_You have me,_  she wants to say to him,  _you have your family._  But it isn't enough, not nearly enough after too many years of having nothing. Always second, always one step behind his older brother, never given the recognition he deserves. No promise of the Crown; only the promise of living out his days within the palace walls. Only the promise of a mediocre existence as the younger brother of the future Fire Lord.

He is the Second Prince, and he has everything but nothing. She wonders who this man is, and who he has become.

 


	20. Tremble

Ursa's heart is pounding. She must have heard wrong, and she drags Azula into the hallway to question her. "What did you say to Zuko?" she asks, and it comes out more harshly than she expects.

Azula stares up at her mother, eyes wide and innocent. "Nothing." But there's an obvious hint of glee beneath the careful nonchalance.

Ursa knows she won't get an answer from her daughter. "Go to bed, then." She nudges Azula down the hallway. "Don't bother your brother anymore."

Azula saunters off down the dark hallway, not bothering to look back. And as she walks away, Ursa hears her say loftily, "Yes, it's always about dear  _Zuzu_ , isn't it?"

The comment bites at Ursa, but she doesn't call Azula back. She doesn't know what she would say. Instead she turns and walks slowly towards the bedroom she shares with Ozai, her mind reeling. The words she heard Azula say to Zuko ring in her ears.  _Sacrifice your first-born son. Sacrifice your first-born son._

Had Azulon really told Ozai that? she wonders, and then asks herself the question that scares her more: Would Ozai do it?

It scares her because she doesn't know the answer. Some days when she speaks to her husband, it is as if she is speaking to a stranger; his eyes are empty, his voice is flat, but what hurts her most is that he no longer looks at her when he speaks.

She has reached the bedroom. Slowly she enters, as quietly as possible, then shuts the door behind her. A soft lamp glows on a table, and she sees that Ozai is already asleep.

Ursa approaches the bed and looks down at her husband. Even in his sleep he is not restful; his brow is furrowed and his face looks tense, unrelaxed. "How long has it been since I have seen you smile?" she murmurs quietly. She reaches down to brush a loose strand of hair from his face, but stops just before her fingers graze his skin. She stares at her hand.

She is trembling.


	21. Sunset

"For you, Fire Lord." Ursa shakes slightly as she sets the tray down in front of Azulon, who barely nods as he reads a scroll.

She had been prepared with an answer in case he asked her why it was she who was serving him his evening tea instead of a maid, but the question had not come. He had not noticed when she had slid a sealed scroll from his desk and replaced it with another one as she had prepared his tea, nor had he noticed when she'd tipped the contents of a tiny glass vial into the teapot.

As with many things that concerned his second son, Ursa's behavior was of little interest to Azulon.

Ursa feels a hot, unexpected surge of anger towards him, towards this old man who has so praised and honored one son while leaving another one in the dust, neglected. It is his fault, his fault that her family is falling apart...

Biting her tongue, Ursa hurries from the room and shuts the door behind her a little harder than necessary. Her heart is pounding terribly loudly, and she wipes her sweaty palms on her robes.

She bursts into her bedroom and shuts the door before collapsing on the bed, hands clenched into tight, trembling fists. It is for the better. This is all for the better. "I am sorry... that I could not give you want you want. Perhaps now you shall have it," she whispers to nobody, but in her mind she is speaking to her prince.

She pulls the scroll that she had taken from Azulon's room from inside her robes and stares at it, wondering if she should open it. But she knows what his will says. Of course she does. There would have been no need to replace it otherwise.

Instead she holds it over the lamp, watching as the flame catches the edges of the parchment and begins to consume it, until eventually there is nothing left but a small pile of ashes. Ursa brushes them off onto the floor and wipes her sticky hands on her clothes.

The room is too hot. Ursa sheds her thick outer robes and steps out onto the balcony, aching for fresh air. The sun is setting on the horizon, and she closes her eyes, seeing the orange glow before her lids.

A hand touches her shoulder, and she starts. Whirling around, she comes face-to-face with Ozai. "My lord!" she gasps, feeling a surge of nerves rush through her. She hadn't heard him enter the room behind her.

He tilts his head slightly, scrutinizing her. "You are bothered," he says.

Ursa swallows. "It is nothing... Ozai." She turns to face the sunset again, and to her great surprise he moves next to her, resting his hand lightly on the small of her back, rubbing soothing circles.

His touch is comforting and unexpected. The hazy pink-and-orange glow in front of her blurs as sudden tears fill her eyes. She takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

"The sunset is beautiful," he says, breaking the silence. She knows that it has been years since he has watched one.

Ursa wipes her eyes. "Yes... it is."


	22. Mad

At first he thinks he is dreaming when he wakes up to the cold, empty sheets. There is pale gray light outside. He never wakes this early. Something is wrong.

Ursa is not here. Cold sheets. She is not here, and she hasn't been for hours.

He sits up.

"Ursa?" he croaks, his voice hoarse. But there is nothing, only silence.

He slides out of bed and glances around the room. There is nothing out of place. The only difference is that she is not here. And yet there remain traces of her presence; a hairbrush on the table in front of the mirror, a dress laid over a chair. She was here, and now she is not. It is that simple.

But it is impossible. He wonders if he is going mad.

He knows he cannot go back to sleep. And so he washes and dresses quickly, suddenly struck by a thought - of course, she is probably at the turtle duck pond.

He does not stop to question why she would be there or what she would be doing there; those are questions that he does not have answers to, and he cannot bear to think of that now.

He hurries. Down to the gardens. Down to the pond. And he stops.

There is no one there.

He walks slowly up to the pond, which is still and silent; the turtle ducks are all still sleeping. Now the uncertainty begins looming over him. If she is not here, then where else would she be? The unwanted truth begins to form in front of his eyes: She is gone.

He stands and stares into the pond. Just stares. And that is how a servant finds him a few hours later, standing and staring into the pond. He has barely moved since the sun rose from the east and climbed into the sky.

"Prince Ozai! I - I have - terrible news." The servant is breathless from his hurry, and he doubles over, hands on his knees.

Instantly Ozai thinks of Ursa, thinks of the worst, and turns to the servant. "What?" he asks sharply.

The servant swallows. "Fire Lord - Fire Lord Azulon passed away in the night."

Ozai's mind reels. His father - dead. His wife - gone. He is no fool. He knows what has happened.

"Prince Ozai?" the servant asks tentatively, after a long moment of silence. "He also - in his will, he also left you... the Crown."

Impossible.

Ozai turns away from the servant and stares into the pond once more, his mind a jumble of confusion and anger. What has she done? What has Ursa done? "Leave," he barks at the servant, and the young man quickly bows before hurrying away.

Ozai glares at the still waters of the pond, a terrible range of emotions rushing through him. He understands now, why she had been so tense the night before...

He does not know how much more time passes before he hears running footsteps behind him again. But this time they are lighter, quicker.

"Where is she?" a voice demands, and he knows that it is Zuko.

Ozai does not turn around. He cannot answer his son. His father - dead. His wife - gone. The Fire Nation -  _his._

It is impossible. He wonders if he is going mad.


	23. Thousand

He would wait for her for a thousand years if he could.

The Crown is his; she has delivered to him what he wants. But he feels angry and confused and betrayed. And then there is the guilt.

And the children...

Azula doesn't seem to be bothered. Zuko, on the other hand, is suffering; but to Ozai his son only remains as a painful reminder of Ursa, and he wants little to do with the boy.

Ursa has fled without a trace, and Ozai knows that she doesn't want to be found. She must have planned everything meticulously, carefully; she had been prepared to leave.

There is no one by his side any longer, no lifeline to save him. He begins to sink further into the darker shadows of his mind. What can he do now besides pursue his power?

He is alone.

He will wait for her for a thousand years if he must.


	24. Outside

He spends much of his time within the palace walls, shut inside the dark, sweltering throne room. Some days he'll hold meetings with his generals, some days Li and Lo will come to report Azula's progress, and some days the lords of the court will come to see him. But most days he is alone, sitting, thinking.

It's only at night that he will venture outside, when everyone and everything else is asleep. He sits under a tree and stares at the silver sheet of the turtle duck pond, remembering that night, so many years ago...

But tonight Ozai's mind drifts elsewhere. His son had dared interrupt... Zuko, incompetent, weak, second-best, had dared interrupt... his son, pitiful reminder of Ursa...

He is glad the boy is gone. No longer does Ozai have to see the accusing glances, the reproachful looks... Anger simmers inside of him. Doesn't Zuko  _know,_  doesn't he know that he was not the only one who suffered from the loss of Ursa?

And then the foolish boy had wasted away his days sniveling... unlike his sister, who had risen to even greater heights. Zuko had always been second-best anyway...

 _Second best._  The thought stings Ozai before he shoves it away. He is glad his son is gone.


	25. Winter

It is snowing. Ursa sits by the window and stares outside as the streets and rooftops slowly disappear under a thick blanket of white.

The snow inevitably brings back a memory from so long ago, when she would never have dreamed that she'd ever see the the snow the way she is seeing it now. Ursa doodles idly on a small scrap of parchment, drawing and redrawing the intricate patterns of snowflakes.

There's a knock at the door. "Come in," Ursa calls. In comes Tuhai, carrying a tray of tea. The elderly woman sets a cup and teapot down in front of Ursa, who nods her thanks but doesn't move.

"Is something wrong?" Tuhai asks, and she takes the seat across Ursa, her green eyes bright against her dark skin.

Ursa sighs. "The snow... reminds me of someone."

Tuhai nods and doesn't ask anymore questions, for which Ursa is grateful. The old woman and everyone else in the little Earth Kingdom village have been kind to her, but she wonders if they would be so kind if they knew her husband was the Fire Lord...

Ursa doesn't notice when Tuhai picks up the empty tray and quietly leaves the room; she's too busy staring out the window, her cup of tea still untouched. "What have you done, Ozai?" she whispers, and her breath fogs up the glass.


	26. Diamond

Furious, he launches a blast of flame across the room, shattering the glass covering the family portrait and sending it cascading to the floor. He places his hands on the table, nails digging into the wood, breathing hard. Seized by another surge of rage, he sweeps his hand across the table and sends the jewelry scattering to the floor, leaving the table where his hands where charred and blackened. Diamonds skitter across the thick red carpet, glinting in the glow of the lamps, winking and mocking him.

It had all been a lie. He doesn't know where Ursa is; doesn't know where she is or if she is even still alive. And he is ashamed of not knowing.

He realizes how little he  _does_  know. There is a question that plagues his mind constantly: Had Ursa found out about Azulon's command?

Ozai clenches his fists, nails digging into his palms. He cannot think how she could have found out; he had never told anyone, and he is certain that his father never had. But her timing - it had been too sudden to be coincidental... and for her to take such drastic measures, she must have believed that he would have killed Zuko...

But he wouldn't have. Not back then, anyway - not back then, when Ursa was still with him, when he still had something _, someone_  to lose.

He has nothing but the throne now. Ursa is gone. Zuko has proven himself worthless - joining the  _Avatar,_ becoming a  _hero!_  Ozai snorts, scornful, still furious with his son's act of insubordination.

He bends and picks up a glittering diamond necklace. Ursa had never cared much for jewelry, but she had kept a box of it anyway. And Ozai had let it sit there, untouched for years until now.

He closes his fist around the strand of diamonds, then tosses them away. The necklace lands in the corner of the room, the gold twisted and warped from the heat; but the diamonds still glitter at him, mocking.

 


	27. Letters

Ursa pauses, brush hovering over the paper. A drop of ink splatters onto the page, forming an ugly black blotch over her writing. Sighing, she blots it up with her sleeve, ignoring the stain.

She continues to write. Mostly it's about the usual - the weather, what she did today - but she also asks him how he doing, if he is missing her. She asks about the children, how are they, what have they been up to lately? and pretends that her family is still a family. When she is finished, she blows out the candle and climbs into bed, falling asleep almost immediately.

In the morning, when the ink is dry, she will roll up the letter and place it with all the rest in the small chest under her bed.


	28. Promise

The night is still. Ursa feels too warm in her cloak, and she has to wipe her sweaty palms on her robes while she murmurs a quick thanks to the spirits who have allowed the guard to sleep tonight. Her heart is racing in her chest, beating out a frantic staccato, so loud that she is almost certain that guard will hear it and wake. But he remains asleep, snoring lightly, and she slips past him, wincing slightly as the door creaks shut behind her.

The cell is dark, lit only by two torches on the walls. Ursa hesitates by the door, terrible foreboding washing over her when she sees the dark figure sitting behind the bars.

"Who's there?"

His voice makes her jump. It is not as she remembers it; it is harsher, coarser, angrier. Trembling, she approaches him and slowly kneels in front of the bars, lowering her hood as she does so. Her voice is stuck in her throat.

He stares at her through the bars, disbelieving, uncomprehending, and she knows that he is wondering if he is seeing a spirit. "My... lady... ?" he whispers, and when she hears him say that to her, after all these years, the hot tears that have been threatening to spill over onto her cheeks finally do.

It will be a long night, she knows, but she also knows that she has already promised herself to him again.


	29. Simple

"What are you... doing here?" he whispers hoarsely. He does not move to approach her as she twists her hand over the cold metal bar.

"I... I've returned." The words sound small and pathetic, hanging in the air between them.

Much to her dismay, he turns away, refusing to meet her gaze. "Why?"

"I..." She trails off. "Because I wanted to be... with my family." It's the simplest answer she can manage. She hates the terrible guilt weighing in the pit of her stomach.

He snorts. "Of course."

"No one else knows I'm here," Ursa says quietly.

"Not even Zuko?" Ozai asks with a bitter smile.

"No."

"Why are you here?" he asks again, sounding almost accusatory. "What do you want?"

Hot, angry tears well up in her eyes. "I want to be with my family. I - I want us to be together."

"You really think it will be that simple?" Ozai laughs harshly, and for the first time she can see how angry and bitter he has become. "You think - even after all this time, even after you walked away from all of us - that it will be that simple?"

"You wanted the Crown!" Ursa bursts out angrily. "Long before I left, you had already abandoned the rest of us! Perhaps not in body, but in soul - and I knew what you wanted. You wanted to be Fire Lord!"

He opens his mouth as if to retort, but nothing comes out. Angrily he shuts his mouth again and glares at her through the bars.

"Is that or is that not true?" Ursa asks quietly. "That you wanted the Crown."

He is silent for a long moment. "It is true."

"You are as much to blame as I," she whispers, and finally the tears come, unstoppable, even as she furiously tries to wipe them away.

For a few minutes, there is nothing but the sound of Ursa's quiet sniffs. Both are waiting for the other to speak.

"My lady."

She looks up as he stands and approaches her. He kneels, his hand slowly comes up to clasp itself around hers where she is gripping the cold metal bar, and she sees that he is trembling slightly. "Yes," she says quietly.

"I'm sorry."

It's a simple apology, but in it she hears everything that he means. And perhaps it won't be enough later as they try to untangle five years' worth of thoughts and feelings - she knows that both of them have much explaining to do - but it is good enough for now.


	30. Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this last chapter but forgot to update it on here... so sorry x_x

It will take time.

Months have passed, a blur for Ursa. She is still trying to make sense of it, of her family. Her daughter, her son, her husband. Who they have all become.

Her return to the Fire Nation was greeted with shock and joy. Her desire to re-unite with her husband - less well-received. Especially from Zuko.

She knows that she is, perhaps, the only being in existence who could ever learn to forgive Ozai. She knows it will take time before even she will be able to fully do so. She knows the atrocity of his war crimes, the terror he has inflicted upon the other nations, upon his own son. She understands why, now, but it will take time.

Occasionally Ozai is allowed to leave his prison cell. It has taken Ursa months to persuade Zuko - her Zuko, the Fire Lord! - to allow Ozai even these brief moments of respite, and even then he is always accompanied by a guard. But it is during these times that she is able to sit and speak and understand.

He has lost his firebending. And yet when his hand grazes over hers, she still feels the old familiar heat of his touch, just like so many years ago. A feeling that she still is unable to comprehend.

Their love is tangled with betrayal and regret. Their family has been torn apart, and perhaps may be able to be sewn loosely back together with rough stitches, but the tears will always be there.

Ursa does not know what the future will hold. She does not know what will become of her son, or her daughter, or her husband, or where the path will take them. They are still healing.

But sometimes Ozai will reach over and take her hand, unspeaking, simply sitting next to her at the edge of the turtle duck pond. And for the first time in many years, Ursa knows that the future holds hope.


End file.
